A Concubine Queen
by Poisoned-Tattoo
Summary: A/U Read chapter 1 to understand our characters fate, for a summary, I believe, would ruin the fun of what is to come.
1. In the beginning

"Sire, quickly, the child is crowning as we speak."

"Is he now? Well then, alert the guards alerted and let us be on our way."

Four sets of guards followed by three men paced quickly down the lavished hallways. Each wore a crest upon their left breast plate signifying their importance to the kingdom, but only one wore a crimson cape and broach with the sigil of the king. Not one made a word and, beside the sound of armored boots hitting the marble floors, the rest of the castle followed suit. Maids of all different species quickened their step to avoid colliding with the sour looking men as they prepared a celebration feast. Those who were not so lucky would end up not only with a shattered bowl, but a broken back by those who shoved her upon the unforgiving floor.

The men eventually reached a large golden door etched in dragons and warriors of all sizes. Small gems were delicately placed throughout the mural, each color precisely selected to enhance the atmosphere. This room was where kings were born and was to be respected as such. The king paused before the door and motioned to his guards to stand by and wait. Entering alone, he came in to see a regal woman in bed holding a small child while a small handful of maidens who were cleaning up bloodied sheets, rushed around. One in particular addressed the king to follow her aside.

"Your majesty," she bowed.

"How is the child?"

A bit flustered from being cut off so quickly, the woman quickly composed herself. "Your highness, you have a healthy baby. She is…"

"SHE!? Thirty different seers and priests have confirmed that I should have a son. Why do you speak of a daughter to me?"

"Your majesty, they all…they all were wrong. Do not fret though, a daughter is just as powerful as a son, especially considering her blood line!"

The king laughed, "Foolish woman, do you not understand? This will ruin our peace! We have an agreement with Crishoyin to marry our son to their daughter. Do you know see what this misconception has done! What it has cost us!?"

The king stormed over his wife, grabbing the small bundle from her. No one was sure if it was to the child or to his wife he was speaking to, "You have failed not only me, but the kingdom itself."

He motioned to drop the baby upon the floor when another slave woman pushed forward and threw herself to the floor. "My Lord, if I may speak, I think I may be able to help."

The king stood before her, towering over her small frame. "And what can you do?" He solemnly placed the baby besides the queen in her bed.

"Sire, my sister who works in the kitchen…she has just bared a son, just a week ago. She longed for a daughter. Perhaps there could be…a switch?"

The king blinked not once, but twice before issuing a great laugh that bellowed throughout the room. "Foolish, a servants child taking the future throne! I WILL NOT HAVE IT!"

"Sire, think of our reputation. Our planet will lose all respect, especially at the thought of the royalty being unable to provide a promised son!"

"SILENCE! HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO YOUR KING AS IF YOU WERE HIS EQUAL! GUARDS!" Immediately the sets of guards left outside rushed in and took the woman into their arms as motioned to by the king. "Set her to be executed immediately! NOW BE GONE!" The guards left with the now sobbing, apologizing woman. The king began to pace as he thought to himself. Eventually he stopped and turned to the others in the room watching him carefully. Setting out his hand, he ki blasted the lot of them until the last one fell dead upon the floor. The queen, who by now had set by silently, straightened herself.

"My love, what on earth should that be done for?"

"Your old handmaiden, is she not with child?"

"Who knows what that whore is up to. You sent her to the harem who knows how long ago."

The king smirked, "Then you do know…your rage confirms you track her."

The queen sniffed as she raised her pointed nose in the air, "No I do not. I cannot help it if my remaining maidens surround me in gossip."

"Then she is…"

"What are you getting at?" snapped the queen.

"Let us just say that I am aware of a few things you so desperately tried to hide as you are of me. There will be a switch and your handmaiden shall bear us the future heir. As for you, well, you went into terrible complications and bled out I am afraid…so tragic. Our child had to be rushed to infirmary for who knows how long. But, our son will grow up just fine without a mother. Rest assured my love, he will." The queens eyes, ever so placid, grew with every final word spoken to her until they glazed over as death shall do. The kings final gift to her was a piercing stare and ki blast to the heart. "SPARRAGUST!" Immediately a dainty woman came into the chambers. "Find me the woman Carota, bring me her child."

"My lord, I know Carota myself, she is over due her pregnancy by a week! She is not yet in labor."

"Then cut him out of her…and do not tell anyone of your deeds. Bring him immediately to me."

"…Yes…yes, my lord." The woman scrambled out of the room quickly. The king sat upon the bed where his deceased wife lay, still bleeding onto the silken sheets. He looked upon the crying bundle lying next to her with distaste. Hours passed and eventually the small servant woman appeared carrying a baby.

"What is it?"

"A boy your majesty. The lady Carota…she is dead my lord. We could not save her from the, um, operation."

"A terrible loss I am sure." The king took the baby into his arms before killing the servant woman before him. "No one can ever know the truth of your mother I am afraid. But you shall grow into a great king. You will reach heights you otherwise should never have seen. My son…you will deliver your people into a whole new area of peace and prosperity. I shall call you, Kakarotto."

Another baby crying cut the king off and he walked over to the source. "You, on the other hand, will replace Carota and be sent to the harem where you will live and grow as a concubine, as should you face your atonement for your unwanted birth. You will have a name fitting to your position, Bulma." Standing up he held a baby in each arm before walking away to place one baby into the arms of a hundred concubines and the other in arms of the monarchy.


	2. Different Lives

"Now, who can tell me about the Golgi Apparatus?" A older, slightly balding man paced before the children seated in their desks. "Come now, we just discussed this yesterday, one of you has to remember something, anything." A common occurrence in classrooms around the world, children sunk lower into their chairs, looking anywhere they possibly could that would not be their teachers eyes. Each dreaming of their own escape. Why couldn't somebody know this? Why doesn't someone say something?

The man sighed exasperated, "I swear, I cannot understand how not a single one of you could remember anything…even a small detail. Lets go over this again and, please, try to pay attention!" The man faced his back to the class, unseeing of unkind gestures and faces being made to him. "The Golgi Apparatus is…" At that moment the doors to the classroom burst open and a young, rather scattered looking boy ran inside and plopped into an empty desk in the back row. Shortly after a calm, more regal looking child followed and gracefully sat down next to the more frantic boy. "Ah, Prince Kakarotto, good to see you, your highness. You as well Vegeta. Perhaps you might have the answer we so desperately seek. Your highness, what is the Golgi Apparatus?"

"Uh well sir, um, the galgy apparaducus is um…well, isn't that um…a cell structure that processes the proteins that were synthesized in the endoplasmic reticulum?" The children let out a collective sigh of relief. Their king, though a bit air headed at times, was known to pull himself together when it was really needed. The other boy sat beside him, quietly observing.

"Very good your highness, but it is actually pronounced the Golgi Apparatus, but don't fret too hard on that for now. We have bigger things to worry about, well, as big as they can get in cells." The old man laughed at his own joke before returning to the blackboard. "Now children, who can tell me what is glycosylation?"

In a completely opposite end of the classroom lay a different classroom. This one was home to the young servant girls, those who were actually allowed to attend basic schooling, though nothing more so than a few home economics classes. Even far beyond this classroom lay another. This one was far more basic and run down than any other room in the castle, and it was believed it was so unkempt as a matter of station. In fact, no royal came here and it was simply left as a dance studio for the performers, dancers, and concubines to learn. It was here that a small, rather awkward looking girl was already in her advanced years as a dancer. Her aquamarine hair was braided down her back and could almost reach her midwaist by now. Her baby blue eyes sparkled regardless of the sweat and dirt caked around her face. She was not a beautiful child, nor an ugly one. Her knees were knobby and her arms slightly longer than they should have been. But it was her eyes that called out to you and question whether your first impression of her beauty was right or wrong. There was something that made anyone around aware that this girl different, and different she indeed was.

Deemed a genius at only three years of age, the child caught on to whatever was shown her. Her memory seemed infallible and her mind a continuous stream of knowledge. Nothing was beyond her grasp and yet, it was all too far away from her. At this time, Bulma should have been in her fifth year as a student. However, her position in life did not require schooling so it was not an option for her. Instead she grasped onto the rare opportunities when men visited the women she lived with to pocket through their things to find something, hopefully any small item that could present her with new knowledge of the world. Seeing her as a way to better all of their positions, the other women were usually very obliging to help her on her quest. Besides, each woman in the harem had given a hand in raising the girl, and each played a motherly role.

Bulma stood before a cracked, slightly smudged up mirror and looked at her exposed stomach

with a judgmental eye. She began with a small hip circle before moving to a fully belly roll. She placed her arms in the air, her wrists delicately posed with her fingers enticingly placed. Each move was a drastic and perfected calculation to best show off her skill as a dancer. Each hip circle, dip, rib cage lift, and movement was precise. She was ten now, soon to be eleven. On her sixteenth birthday she would no longer be considered safe under the law and men could visit

her in the harem. On her sixteenth birthday she had to perform for the entire royal court. If she did not find favor in someone's eyes and purchased as a personal slave, lady in waiting, or even, hopefully, muse, she would be subjected to any man who entered the harem. That was considered a rare gift from the king, but they still had many a man who were not gentle and cruel. She had less than six years to prepare herself. Only six years to save herself and change her fate.

Hours passed and soon the boys were let out of classes and Bulma returned to her room to eat. Almost every day their schedules continued like this for years even. The boys would go to class in the morning, usually arriving ten minutes late, leave for dinner, and train until nightfall. Bulma would spend her days by however fate took her. If she could, she would read, otherwise she would dance and perfect her performance skills. Trying to vocally train herself, which ended in misery as there are some things people can not be taught, she stuck with art. Using whatever she could find and fitting them together to form whatever may be, she found her new love. However, it was about a year after she began this, when she was around thirteen, that she found out that there was more than meets the eye. It was when she was tinkering with some carelessly left behind wires, a few pieces of metal, and some other knick knacks that her art started to buzz and fly around. Catching it, Bulma inspected her creation and discovered she somehow made a flying machine, though it was only big enough for a bug mind you.

Further inspection lead the young girl to further attempt, fail, and reattempt many different pieces to see what could and could not be done. Yards of notes and guesses spread across her small room, each containing what ifs and what had actually happened. Eventually, she stopped calling this passion "art" and instead called it "inventing." She began to steal whatever small metal pieces she could find, anything to help her expand this new love. It was in this passion that Bulma stopped dancing and focused her days specifically in inventing.

It was now that Bulma stood less than a month away from her sixteenth birthday with no dance routine or performance prepared and, even worse, completely unaware of such a thing.


End file.
